


Until the last green grass is burned to ashes

by Welsper



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Devotion, F/M, Loyalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/pseuds/Welsper
Summary: Even now he could not leave her side, even now he loved her.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35
Collections: Writing Rainbow Green





	Until the last green grass is burned to ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).



“Khaleesi?”

Jorah was not a careful man, a subtle man. He had no such great ability to tread lightly and unnoticed as a Faceless Man, he had no such grace as a Water Dancer of Bravoos, but when he stepped into the burned out shell of the Red Keep, he stepped as careful as he could. The smell of burnt flesh was still lingering in his nose and ash burned his eyes. Viserion did not approach with him, folding himself before the broken entrance. He was such a kind child. For but a split moment, Jorah had thought about going after her with him, stop her. But he had not been able to bring himself to do it. He could not pit brother against brother, against mother. Against his love. There were so little dragons left in the world, and Jorah would not be part of another Dance. Only them, and Jon with no desire to truly be one, the ice in his blood reigning over the fire, now and always. Viserion had not chosen him as rider to end it all again.

Drogon made a low rumbling noise as he approached. His wings had shielded his rider from Jorah’s view, but when the dragon saw who it was, he folded in his wings. Him too, Jorah had known since he was a child. He had grown fierce and strong with Dany and despite everything, Jorah was as proud of him as any father could be. He did what he was born to do and Jorah could not fault him for it.

The retracting wings revealed Dany’s small form, an ashen and undone heap upon the floor.

“Did I do something wrong?” Daenerys asked, her eyes wide. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, full of soot and blood and come undone from her ride on Drogon. Jorah thought about it for a moment.

“Perhaps you did,” Jorah said then softly. Daenerys bowed her head and sobbed. She had looked untouchable in the sky, every shot from every ballista mounted on the fleet and the walls missing her. A raging goddess come to judge the mortals for their sins, riding on death made flame. But now she looked a lost little girl. Like she had back then, when he had first met her. When he had fallen in love with her. And all those years he had never stopped, could not stop. And Jorah knew he should not, he ought not, but even now his heart longed for her.

“Even so… will you stay by my side?” Daenerys asked, hope frail in her voice as she looked up to him with tear streaks clearly visible on her ash-covered skin.

“I swore an oath,” Jorah said although that was not all and they both knew it.

“Blood of my blood. Until the day I die.”

Daenerys’ eyes were begging him for something. She reached out to him and he took her delicate hand into his own. She was so small. Looking at her, you would never know such a woman could bring such destruction. But perhaps deep down, Jorah had always known. She was the mother of dragons, not the mother of sheep. Dragons could never be truly tamed, and Dany was a true one, the same as her children.

“Say it, Jorah,” Dany breathed and pulled him down to her onto the ground. Jorah knelt before her and with trembling arms closed her into his embrace. “Tell me.”

“I love you, Daenerys,” Jorah breathed, his lips nearly touching hers. She sighed contently and closed the distance. It was a rough thing, their lips cracked from the hot and dry air and tears and screams. But still, it was so lovely. So kind. So long coming.

“Forever.”

Dany pressed into him, into his arms and he held her there for he knew not how long. It was the most blissful moment of his life. He had thought himself content on the battlefield before Winterfell, as he lay dying in her arms. But now he was all the more glad for having lived through that nightmare. Even if it meant seeing thousands die. Even if it meant seeing King’s Landing burned. Even if it meant seeing his Daenerys become that thing neither of them had known was her all those years ago. The Stallion who mounted the world, it was her, not Rhaego, not her dragons, it was her, it had always been her and the people would tremble before her.

Jorah loved her and no matter what she became, he would not stop. Could not. Wished not to.

Grey Worm found them eventually. Blood was dripping down his armor and spear and one look between the men told Jorah that he too, would follow his Queen wherever it was she wished them to go to. To all the seven hells if she so desired. They would take the Stranger’s lands from him for this woman if that is what she would ask of them.

“Your people wish to see their queen,” Grey Worm said after saluting.

“They shall have her,” Daenerys said and rose. She cupped Jorah’s face with one hand, a smile on her face. “And their king too.”

Jorah’s heart stopped for a moment.

“Khaleesi, I am not worthy,” he started and she stopped him with a finger to his lips and a gaze that was so full of warmth and love Jorah thought he might have died after all.

“That is for me to decide, Jorah Mormont.”

And so it was, like all things were.

“Prepare my banners, Grey Worm. My house’s shall finally fly over King’s Landing again,” Daenerys said and then: “And soon, over the world.”

“Yes, my queen,” Grey Worm said and saluted. Jorah and Dany went deeper into the Keep, what was left of it. Warrior queen and conqueror she may be, a ruler still had to look the part.

They found a room to wash themselves in and Jorah carefully untangled Dany’s glowing hair from half-undone braids. Even after a kiss, it felt almost more intimate to touch it. For so long he had wished for it, dreamed of it. That silver-haired goddess in his arms and he sent a prayer to every god he could remember and the demons too when he turn the brush downwards, combing away soot and ash and tangles. Daenerys sighed contently as she felt his fingers follow the brushstrokes, gently gliding through shining locks and over her scalp.

“They found her under the rubble, in the end,” Daenerys said without turning back. “She ran. All she did was look from her window as her men fought for her, died for her. And then she ran.” Daenerys caught Jorah’s hand in hers and turned her face slightly to look at him from under hair restored to its beauty.

“I wanted her to face me. I wanted her to accept her defeat properly. But she never did. If it was me...”

Daenerys thoughtfully looked up.

“I would have let her burn me. Never let me become a queen that rules bolted to her throne, Jorah. A khaleesi that does not ride is no true khaleesi. Westeros is only the beginning...”

She stood and Jorah knelt before her, and there was no place he would rather be. With her skin cleaned and her hair falling down her back and shoulders in waves of splendid silver, she was truly the greatest wonder Jorah had ever seen in all his life. And if he was the only man in all the world to bow to her, he cared not. She was his queen, now and always.

“There will be no more slaves. No more subjugation. Together, we will free the world, Jorah,” Daenerys said and Jorah kissed her hand in devotion. She smiled at him, and she was so kind.

He knew that she did not do the things she did out of the madness that had taken her father. She was not him and she would never be. Jorah saw in her eyes that she understood the graveness of what she had done. And still she would press on, see her dreams fulfilled, her vision of a grand future no other saw. She was greater, far greater than all. Even Aegon the Conqueror had stopped at Westeros, having died even failing that.

“Come, Jorah,” Daenerys said and he rose to his feet. “Let us build a new world together.”

When they stepped out together in front of their armies, with their dragons roaring to the sky, Jorah knew he had finally found his home. It was not Westeros he had longed to return to, not Bear Island and not his restored name.

His home was Daenerys Targaryen and now that he had found it, he would never let it go.


End file.
